


Arrows

by AnselaJonla



Series: Prompt fills [31]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21863209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnselaJonla/pseuds/AnselaJonla
Summary: A fic written for a prompt on the r/WritingPrompts subreddit:[WP] A world where everything is normal except everyone is constantly being attacked by unseen archers. However, the arrows are guaranteed to miss.
Series: Prompt fills [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1097823
Kudos: 1





	Arrows

I grimace as I look at my next job of the night. A sad pile of protective clothing is draped over the handle of the pump truck that's been left under the pallet.

Look, the wee men never hit people. It's much more fun not to, and more of a challenge to only just miss us. That means the arrows have to go somewhere, and when you're working delivery in a supermarket that is usually the stock. Which isn't a problem with the dry goods or anything packaged in glass, but plastic is cheaper and lighter, so some manufacturers just insist on using it still.

Ah, they're way too big. They think it's the usual guy down here tonight. He's got about a foot on me, and at least six stone (and that's being _polite_ , as I suspect it's closer to eight, if not ten). His waterproofs literally fall off me. I know, I've tried them on before.

Off to the back I go. Hopefully a medium set is in there, or one of the larges. Oh good, there's a medium, and not only is it not sticky, it's actually _clean_. No wandering around in a miasma of stale sweat for me tonight. I hang the overly large ones on the appropriate peg, ducking an arrow that rebounds off the concrete wall.

I don the waterproofs when I get back to my aisle. I do one last check, making sure that only the soles of my trainers are exposed, the pull toggles at my wrists are locked tight, and that my hair is covered by my hood. I flip the breathable veil down over my face and fasten it at the neck, and set my knife to the pallet wrap.

The instant I uncover the first layer of plastic pop bottles, I'm showered with sticky coke. Every single bloody time, a perfect shot past my wrist and straight into the bottom third of the bottle for maximum spillage. I can hear the wee men laughing as I discard the empty plastic into the damages cage. It's the first one, but it won't be the last.

Really, this job used to be _so_ much easier. I can see why the _people_ exiled these little buggers. They're total and utter nuisances, and the speed with which they multiply makes the proverbial bunny rabbits look chaste. And we're stuck with them, at least until _she_ changes her mind and realises she needs her archers back for yet another civil war.

This aisle is a battle of speed and wits, now. How quickly can you open the shelf front _just enough_ , load the new stock in, and shut the solid plastic cover again? Can you completely block the opening _and_ the new stock with your body to protect it?

It's a game for them. The top shelves are guaranteed to lose at least one bottle each time I expose them. I can't prevent that, not when it's literally above my head. The wee men are at least being sporting there, as they could easily put an arrow through every single bottle there. It's more of a challenge on the lower ones.

I kneel to fill a lower shelf, and an arrow flies through my armpit. The next goes through the crook of my elbow. I feel the feathers of the one that skims past my neck.

By the time the pallet is empty, my waterproofs are completely covered in sticky pop, the floor makes obscene noises with every step I make, and the cleaner is waiting at the end of the aisle with a disgruntled look on his face. The damages cage isn't full though, which is better than some nights. I don't know if the wee men were going easy on me, or if I'm getting better at blocking them.

An arrow bounces off the pump truck handle as I reach for it.

They're annoying menaces, but at least they're not _directly_ dangerous.


End file.
